


Heigh, Ho, the Holly

by oxymoron_prone



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Presents, Domestic Violence, Fluff, Fluffy Christmas drabbles, Fluffy interactions, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Strong Language, Teacher-Student Relationship, christmas day, forced sexual intercourse, gift-giving, okay I don't think they'll all turn out to be drabbles, winter holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoron_prone/pseuds/oxymoron_prone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Heigh, ho, sing heigh ho, unto the green holly; most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly; then heigh, ho, the holly. This life is most jolly."</p><p>Oneshots set in the holiday season/winter weather with Aoba and his boyfriends.<br/>Set in various universes, some of which are completely AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Man's Ingratitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I really should be working on literally anything else besides this story at this very moment but also I really couldn't stop myself, okay? Just bear with me as I shirk all of my responsibilities and obligations and prior engagements leave me here to die omg.  
> College apps are kicking my ass. Why is everything to do with school always so complicated?  
> I'll do my best to get this set of oneshots done by Christmas day, yeah? Expect it but also don't expect it because I'm a lazy piece of shit.  
> lol bai.

_"Blow, blow, thou winter wind._

_Blow, blow, thou winter wind._

_Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude,_

_as man's ingratitude."_

 

Germany was very, very cold in the late fall and winter, Aoba decided as he shivered and held Ren closer to him and continued walking down the street. Ren was in no way a real dog with real body heat, but the spitz had insisted upon installing a function that would allow him to be somewhat of a personal space heater for his blue-haired owner. 

Moving halfway across the world to be with Noiz certainly wasn't a bad decision - if anything, Aoba would argue that it was the best choice he'd ever made - but there certainly were a few drawbacks to being in such a cold place. Being used to mildly warm to scorching hot weather on Midorijima meant that his tolerance of cold was definitely lower than it should be for the region. 

But, the cold was unfortunately the least of Aoba's stressors on this day. He had maybe twelve days left until Christmas, and he still hadn't found a present for Noiz. What exactly were you supposed to get for someone who had literally anything they wanted at their fingertips? 

And the worst part about it was that Noiz had definitely gotten Aoba something extravagant and most likely something that Aoba had offhandedly complained that he didn't have or was missing, because whenever Aoba worried about how much money Noiz was spending on him the blonde just smirked and kept tapping away at his Coil. Noiz was observant as fuck and it was really maddening.

Aoba was working really hard at learning German as he wanted to go to work with Noiz and have a real job and knew that he couldn't really interact successfully with people until he was at least partially fluent. Therefore, after his lessons finished for the day and Noiz was still at work, Aoba could go out and look around at shops and whatnot for a gift for Noiz. 

The driver Noiz had hired (because Aoba couldn't drive) took Aoba into town, and chuckled heartily and shook his head when Aoba asked him if he knew what Noiz would want for Christmas. 

Aoba sighed and moved on from the tiny electronics store. Anything inside was something Noiz had probably already seen or considered getting for himself. 

The next few hours progressed in much the same way, with Ren being of little to no help in Aoba's endeavors - the Allmate knew Noiz rather well, but even he didn't know what Noiz could want. That was, until Ren said something that gave Aoba an epiphany. 

"Aoba, you said Noiz would give you things you mentioned you needed. What if you were to employ the same strategy in finding Noiz a gift?" Ren asked. 

Aoba's eyes went wide and he felt a smile overtaking his face. "Ren, you're a genius!" Aoba exclaimed happily, giving Ren's head a vigorous rub and clutching him closer. 

If there was one thing that Noiz had complained about, out of the many, many things that Noiz complained about, the thing that he mentioned the most was the strangeness of being able to feel sensations strongly. Noiz could no longer walk around dressed however he wanted because now he needed to dress appropriately based on the weather - something he wasn't used to at all, and something that Aoba constantly needed to remind him to do. 

Hands on his hips, in the mornings before Noiz left for work, Aoba often stood between his brat of a boyfriend and the front door, arguing with the blonde about wearing coats and scarves and hats when he went outside. 

Noiz, drinking his thankfully not scalding coffee, retorted back in a deadpan, "I don't need to wear a coat."

Aoba felt like he wanted to tear his hair out as the debate wore on and every time he had to say, "Noiz, you need to wear a coat or you will actually freeze to death."

"I've never needed to wear one."

"Noiz, not only can you actually feel sensation now, but being able to feel or not you should wear a coat or you could get hypothermia or frostbite!" 

"Tch."

Aoba wasted about ten minutes every morning, thus nearly making Noiz late for work and himself late for his morning German lessons, wrestling the younger man into a coat, gloves, and a hat that even Aoba himself had to admit didn't suit the blonde at all. 

Aoba practically ran back to the sleek black car, where Lukas the driver was waiting to take him where he needed to go. 

"Where to, Aoba?" Lukas asked brightly in German. 

The young man scratched his head and frowned, trying to come up with the words in German to say what he wanted to say. 

"Take me somewhere I can buy wool and yarn," Aoba decided to say, and neatly avoided the inquisitive glance Lukas shot at him. 

But the car smoothly pulled away from the curb and was on the road in no time at all, and then the small, strange trio headed home as soon as Aoba bought what he needed. 

The blue-haired SCRAP user gathered up all of his supplies once up in his and Noiz's room and determinedly asked Ren for instructions on how to make what he wanted to make, and set to work. 

()()()

Noiz came home in a bad fucking mood. 

People at work were so annoying and constantly calling him to make him approve their designs or plans or what-the-fuck-ever and it made Noiz mad when he couldn't get all of his own paperwork and designs done on time and needed to stay late when he could be at home with Aoba lounging in front of the fire or having dinner or doing literally anything else. 

It was Christmas Eve and Noiz had to deal with at least one hundred stupid peoples' bullshit. 

Noiz then had to deal with fucking stupid people on the road, being asshole drivers in their dumb cars and trucks and shit, and honestly did none of these people know how to drive when the roads were icy as fuck? 

At least Noiz didn't die as he was driving home, and parked his car as close to the door as he could manage so he didn't have to put on the huge bundle of fabric Aoba had thrust upon him that very morning just to walk to the front door.

"I'm home," Noiz declared, toeing off his shoes. He blinked in surprise when he stepped through the foyer and was grabbed up in a huge, blue-colored hug. 

"Welcome home!" Aoba exclaimed ecstatically, muffled by Noiz's shirt. 

The house was warm. Very warm. For Noiz it was as if he'd stepped into a completely different world. The room smelled like cinnamon bread and pine and brown sugar and as he breathed in he caught a whiff of a comforting smell that was distinctly Aoba. 

Noiz wound his arms around Aoba's back, holding him snugly, and felt a smile tugging at his lips. Noiz liked hugging him. It was one of his favorite pastimes. His blue-haired companion fit against him like a puzzle piece, and he always smelled really nice.

"You have tomorrow off, right?" Aoba asked quietly. 

Noiz pulled back, put a hand under Aoba's chin, stared at him for a brief moment, and then leaned in for a gentle kiss. 

"Yeah," Noiz announced as they broke apart. 

"That's good. You eaten yet?" 

"No." 

"Well, then, let's have some dinner. I asked Klara to delay it for a few hours, but since you're home now..."

"Okay."

The kitchen smelled like turkey and potatoes, and was even warmer than the living room and the foyer had been. Klara, the chef, was smiling, waiting for the pair to sit down so she could serve the food. 

"How was work?" Aoba asked as he buttered a roll.

Through a huge mouthful of turkey and mashed potatoes, Noiz mumbled, "It was bullshit."

"What happened?"

"Too many fuckheads don't know how to do their jobs. I should fire half of them," Noiz finally finished chewing and took a gulp of hot apple cider.

Aoba raised an eyebrow. "Maybe just give them a warning instead? It'd be even more trouble to try and find and interview people willing to work for you on such short notice."

Noiz pinned Aoba with a deadpan stare, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing!" Aoba grinned. 

Noiz sighed. "How are your lessons progressing?" 

"I can almost hold a full conversation now!" Aoba replied in German. 

"But I bet you're still not good enough to keep up with me," Noiz smirked. 

"You have years of experience over me, though. That's not fair."

"Being fair is for wimps, Aoba."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is."

"It's not!" Aoba opened his mouth to protest further when Noiz shoved half of a roll into it and chuckled at Aoba's indignant expression.

"Hey," Noiz interjected. Aoba was chewing through the roll as quickly as he could. "I love you."

Aoba finished chewing and huffed. "Love you, too, I guess."

Noiz flashed a smile and kissed Aoba on the cheek. "I'm going to go take a bath." The blonde was up and out of his seat, throwing a nod to Klara for the meal and dropping one last kiss on the top of Aoba's head.

"Hey! Remember we still need to decorate the Christmas tree!" Aoba called after Noiz as the younger man dashed to the stairs. 

"Yeah!" Noiz yelled back dismissively, "I'll be down soon!"

Aoba shook his head and smiled fondly. He thanked Klara for a great meal and moved into the living room, whereupon he dropped onto the couch and settled in to watch some TV until Noiz came down. 

~*~

Noiz's shower was nice, he supposed. Showering was a lot better when you could also use it for relaxation. Noiz wondered about Aoba's strange attitude - he was being slightly more upbeat than usual, and had been that way for the past week or so. Not that Noiz didn't like seeing Aoba happy and whatnot, but he found the sudden change slightly suspicious. 

As he was drying himself off in the bedroom, Noiz woke Ren up from his sleepmode and asked him what was up with Aoba.

"To what are you referring?" Ren asked, tilting his head to the side.

"He's all energetic. What have you been doing after Aoba finishes with his German lesson?" Noiz asked, rubbing a towel through his hair and pulling on his pajama pants. 

"Sorry, Noiz. I'm not at liberty to tell you about Aoba's activities," Ren said. 

"Hmm. Then he's hiding something from me," Noiz deduced. He rolled his eyes. Aoba thought he was so clever sometimes. It was truly endearing. 

Noiz pulled open the door to the walk-in closet and removed a panel from the floor, exposing a secret cache of brightly-wrapped boxes. He gathered up the bundle in his arms and stalked down the stairs and turned right to enter the living room. 

Aoba had a few Christmas-themed candles burning, and was contemplating the many boxes of ornaments that Noiz had sent for weeks ago, when Aoba mentioned that he wanted to have a traditional Christmas tree. 

The ten foot monstrosity of a Christmas tree made the room look smaller, as large of a feat that was. Noiz marched in and set the packages underneath the tree on top of the gingerbread-patterned tree skirt. He noticed that the space beneath the tree hadn't been empty when he arrived - it was occupied by a medium sized box wrapped in silver paper with a black and green bow. 

Noiz arched a nearly nonexistent brow. Was that what Aoba had been keeping from him? A Christmas present?

"Noiz, I think you got too many Christmas ornaments," Aoba worried, pulling bauble after shiny, sparkly bauble out of the numerous boxes. 

"No. We have some replacements in case some of them break," Noiz declared, settling the last box under the tree with ease. 

"And this tree is huge!"

"This tree is just the right size," Noiz retorted, and picked up a remote from the table beside one of the huge fluffy couches. Soft Christmas carols floated through the air and the electric fireplace sprung to life. Noiz stepped up behind Aoba and wrapped his arms around his lover's middle, drawing him backwards into a gentle embrace. 

"Noiz, I think you went a little overboard."

"No, I didn't."

"But all of this stuff is way over the top!"

"Aoba." 

"Yeah?"

"Just decorate the tree with me."

"..."

"...?"

"...okay, brat."

Noiz fought down a comeback and released Aoba so that the two of them could hang the ornaments on the tree.

Aoba was the one to wrap the tree with blinking white, red, and green Christmas lights, and when he was done the entire room seemed to glow with cheer. Noiz couldn't suppress a grin. Aoba looked so cute when he was proud of himself.

Noiz was the one to grudgingly put the star at the very top of the tree, to the amusement of Aoba (They both were way too short to be able to reach the top of the tree unaided, so they needed to enlist Niklas, who brought them a stepladder and a warning to please be careful while using it).

After two hours of arduous decorating, the tree was done. Covered in shiny new ornaments, twinkling lights, and glittery tinsel, the imposing tree stood proudly in the living room next to the black grand piano, throwing a bright reflection in the glossy surface. 

The strange pair stood in front of the tree, admiring it for a little while, and then proceeded to collapse on the squishy love seat and watch badly German-dubbed Christmas specials until Noiz passed out and Aoba had to carry him up the stairs to bed. 

~*~

Noiz had never been a big advocate for Christmas, or even the holiday season in general. Christmas just didn't seem like a good time to him, after he was confined to his room by his mom and dad. He still received gifts, that was for sure. His parents and his little brother all eventually decided he was worthy of their bare sympathies and sent up boxes of things they thought he would want. 

They were often incorrect.  

Noiz didn't want the latest computer - the one he had worked just fine. He didn't want the newest, sleekest coil or a new credit card that he could use on whatever he wanted. Noiz wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, really. But he sure as hell knew that whatever it was he truly wanted, it wasn't going to come from his parents or even his brother. 

Christmas was dark and depressing, and while Noiz understood why other people liked it he sure as fuck didn't enjoy it himself. Christmas was a holiday Noiz spent alone, always. 

People online called him a grinch when he said he didn't like Christmas. They claimed he wasn't giving the time of year enough of a chance to prove itself to him. He usually stopped talking to those people. 

But Christmas now...

Christmas now was Aoba apparently shaking him awake gently and pointing excitedly out the window at the falling snow, even though it snowed practically every other day in Germany in the winter, and exclaiming that it was the first time he'd been somewhere where it snowed on Christmas day. Christmas now was Aoba demanding Noiz stay in his pajamas and the two of them go downstairs and open presents together. 

Christmas now was Aoba surprising Noiz. 

Noiz held in his hands the medium silver box he'd seen under the tree with his name written in slightly shaky Roman characters. Aoba stared expectantly at Noiz, having already opened all of Noiz's gifts to him at the blonde's insistence. 

The black and green bow came off, and the delicate silver paper came off, and the box's flaps were pulled back to reveal a lump of black and green. 

Noiz pulled it out of the box with furrowed brows and turned it over and examined it in his hands. 

It was a hat. 

A beanie, really, made of soft black woolen yarn with an electric green cube-shaped rabbit stitched on the front. 

Noiz raised his eyes to his boyfriend in question. 

Aoba blushed a little bit. "I know that you can get cold now, Noiz, and I think you threw away all of your old hats and clothes because you wanted to look professional, which is completely fine, but none of the hats I've put on you seem to suit you because they're so plain and boring. So, I made you one that will match you."

There was a very pregnant, very long silence following Aoba's explanation. Noiz took in Aoba's sheepish stare, and the wariness that seemed to permeate his very being, and he took in the hat that Aoba himself had constructed specifically for Noiz. Noiz lunged.

Aoba was soon breathless with a lengthy open-mouthed kiss.

Noiz then lay on top of Aoba, head pressed against Aoba's chest in a rather familiar pose.

"Noiz?" Aoba asked tentatively. 

"...Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem from the song "Blow blow thou winter wind" arranged by John Rutter, words by William Shakespeare.


	2. Thou Art not Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOohhhhh it's an AU this time :)  
> Obligatory coffee shop AU with a little twist, i think.  
> enjoy, friends.  
> DH

_"Thy tooth is not so keen,_

_because thou art not seen,_

_although thy breath be rude,_

_although thy breath be rude."_

It wasn't like Aoba didn't like his job, but he really wanted to break a plate on his manager Koujaku's face. 

Koujaku had decided that because too many patrons got distracted by Aoba's voice when he was working the register that Aoba should go and work in the back, making drinks. Aoba wasn't particularly upset by having to make the drinks and sometimes make the pastries that Beni Shigure sold throughout the day, but he definitely hated having to work with Noiz. 

Noiz was a shithead college student who had no regard for others and refused to do his fair share of the work, instead deciding to sit in the supply closet tapping away at his laptop. Aoba brought this up to Koujaku many times, but Koujaku just put his hand on Aoba's shoulder and told him that because Noiz was the kid of one of Koujaku's dad's business partners, there was nothing he could do. 

Noiz was _weird_ , too. A neurotic, weird dude who had apparently nothing better to do during his shift than to bother Aoba every time the blue-haired man had to get something from the supply closet.

So Aoba had to make do with the poor conditions and struggle through the best he could. 

He got the tiny papers that came through the little window and he made the drinks to the customers' specifications and then he gave the orders to Koujaku, who gave them to the customers with his bright, lady-killing smile. 

Aoba settled into his new role as the barista and order-filler rather quickly - it only took him a week to completely learn how all of the equipment worked and how all the drinks were usually made, and from there it only happened a few times that someone requested a special order with special ingredients. 

The weeks went on much in this way for a long while, until one rainy Tuesday in November when Koujaku poked his head into Aoba's little zone and told him that one of the customers said to give his compliments to the barista. 

Aoba kind of just stared at Koujaku for a minute until he got done processing what the man said, by which time the hot chocolate Aoba was decorating was drowning in whipped cream. When he finally shook himself out of his stupor, he dismissed the new information with a, "Well, that's weird."

Koujaku replied, "Yep," and went back to the front to manage the register.

Though the incident was pretty strange, Aoba could easily brush it off as just somebody playing some kind of joke or prank, and the whole thing didn't really even bother him until the next day, when it happened again. Koujaku poked his dark blue head in again with a similar message as before, but with an added mention of Aoba's 'mastery of brewing coffee.' 

Aoba rolled his eyes and continued on with putting an extra shot in a mocha latte. 

The month went on in a very similar fashion until the beginning of December, when the real seasonal beverages and brews came out. Aoba worked on his little foam Christmas trees for a long while before he dared putting them on the tops of the drinks. He starting using them on orders around the twelfth, and the response was overwhelmingly positive. 

Aoba's mystery patron with the compliments even said something about them being 'festive and adorably perfect,' which, like a lot of the stranger's compliments since week three of their arrival made Aoba's cheeks flush just a little bit. Aoba was more than a little grateful that the patron, whoever he was, had stopped verbally telling Koujaku what he wanted Aoba to hear and instead wrote them on little notes which Aoba's manager passed back to him at the end of his shift. 

_Fantastic coffee today!_

_XOXO_

_I love the little foam trees!_

_XOXO_

_Behind every good coffee shop is a wonderful barista :)_

_XOXO_

_Must be hard to work during the busier hours - hope you take a break every now and again._

_Delicious coffee today! I really love the dark blend._

_XOXO_

The barista never replied to any of the messages, but they never stopped coming. It seemed like every day that Aoba worked there was a new note or tiny message from this strange person, and the more it happened the less strange it became to him. He even stopped minding that they weren't signed with a name, just 'XOXO.' He had a small collection of them stored in a little wooden box on his nightstand, and whenever he wasn't feeling so hot he took a look at them and was reminded of this mystery person's admiration.

But one day on one of Aoba's shorter shifts, the expected note never came. 

He supposed he only noticed its absence because he didn't leave with a little piece of paper stuck in his back pocket, where he usually put the tiny notes. Aoba's blue eyebrows pulled together in the center of his forehead as he put his apron into his locker and pulled his hair down from it's bun.

With a small nonchalant shrug and a tiny feeling of loss that he definitely tried to squash down, Aoba left the shop and headed out to the mall that surrounded it, hoping to find Christmas presents for his friends and for Tae.

The tall street lamps were just coming on, and their lights bounced off the garlands and bows that decorated them. Loads of other shoppers looking for presents or decorations milled about, giggling and speaking to each other. Shop windows adorned with brightly colored Christmas trees and display-worthy wrapped boxes tied up with bows and strings poured light out onto the sidewalk. 

He was grateful for his huge, puffy blue jacket as he was wandering down the cold streets - there was no snow as of yet, but Aoba highly doubted the season would pass without at least a light dusting of the white powder. 

It was easy enough to find little presents for Mizuki, Tae, Koujaku, and Aoba's brother Ren (Aoba didn't really consider Noiz a friend, so he didn't even bother with getting something for him) that after just a little over half an hour of shopping, Aoba decided it was time to start heading home. He was getting a little to chilly to spend much more time outside.

Just as he was getting ready to leave the small center of shopping, something caught his eye. 

There was a bright, pastel green scarf displayed on a mannequin in a shop window. Without thinking about it too much, Aoba pushed the shop's door open and meandered his way inside, admiring the paper ornaments and snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. The store was warm and smelled like apples and cinnamon. He picked up the scarf and brought it over to the counter, where a helpful sales lady was waiting. 

"Is this all for you today?" She asked, smiling at him and punching numbers into the keypad on the register. 

"Yes, thanks," Aoba replied. He paid and waited for the woman to wrap the scarf in paper and place it in a brown paper bag, then thanked her once again and left. 

He wasn't sure what exactly had drawn him to the scarf, nor did he know who he was going to give it to. He'd keep it for himself, but he was fairly certain the shade of green would clash with his hair. Aoba zipped his jacket up to his chin and pulled the hood over his head as white snowflakes began to fall from the sky. 

Aoba hurried home, anxious to be out of the cold.

~()~

The next time Aoba's mystery patron passed a note to him, it was a complete letter enclosed in a light blue envelope, sealed with a sticker that looked a lot like a jellyfish. The letter itself was actually really nice - it was explaining to Aoba that he hadn't been able to come to the shop for a few days because someone in his family had been ill and he needed to take care of him. He complimented Aoba's beverages several more times. After all the notes and all the little correspondences, Aoba didn't feel as if the compliments were that creepy anymore. In fact, he blushed a little bit and gave a little mental 'thanks' for each of his admirer's admissions. 

But more important than any of that, Aoba felt, was the fact that now he had a name for this mystery man. He'd signed the letter with _'XOXO, Clear'_ (which honestly made the tips of Aoba's ears a little bit red, as it usually did). And there was a post-script at the bottom asking if maybe Aoba wanted to go out to lunch sometime.

Aoba, for the first time since the whole business of Clear's comments and compliments to him began, penned a response.

~()~

The shop was peaceful today - it seemed that at 2:30 in the daytime there was no reason to complain about the shop not carrying a specific type of coffee. The coffee was excellent, as per the usual. He sat in the corner of the shop in one of the squishy armchairs near the window and took small sips of the frothy mocha with the tiny tree shape in the foam every once in a while, staring out through the glass into the dusky afternoon. He'd shaken off all the snow he could from his see-through umbrella and his white trench coat before hanging them on the hooks by the door, afraid of dripping water all over the floor and upholstery.

Koujaku, the manager of the shop, came by Clear's spot to chat every once in a while. Koujaku was really nice and attentive, and was very helpful in making sure Clear's notes got to Aoba-san. Today, though, Koujaku made his way over to Clear during a lull in business carrying a light green bag with bright white snowflakes on it and white tissue paper sticking out of the top. 

"Aoba said to give this to you," Koujaku announced, plopping the bag on Clear's little table.

"For me?" Clear asked in confusion, tilting his head to the side. 

"Unless there's someone else who regularly gives my barista handwritten notes telling him his brews are 'superior in every way'?" Koujaku quoted dryly.

Clear took the bag and pulled out whatever had been hidden by the tissue paper, revealing a long, wide green cashmere scarf. He blinked the moisture rapidly away from his eyes and stuck his hand back in the bag, trying to find some sort of note or letter - some sort of explanation. He encountered a soft green envelope with more white snowflakes on it. 

_Clear -_

_Thank you so much for all of your kind words. I read all of your notes and I've never thrown a single one of them away - they make me smile when I look at them._

_I'm very glad that your relative is better now, and I hope the illness wasn't too serious._

_I would love to go to lunch with you, but first please accept this small gift from me. It definitely won't make up for all of the happiness you've given me through your notes, but I hope it at least makes you a little warmer._

_You seem very nice; I can't wait to meet you!_

_\- XOXO, Aoba_

~()~

Two years passed since Aoba's lunch date with Clear, and one day he stood in front of Beni Shigure and contemplated something that had been very prevalent to him recently.

Because there were a lot of things that Aoba was grateful for. 

He was grateful for his Grandma, Tae, who raised him.

He was grateful for his brother, Ren, who gave him advice and made sure he took care of himself.

He was grateful for his great friends Mizuki and Koujaku, and he was grateful for all of his teachers at university. 

And, he noted as he felt Clear's soft lips against his own and the cool metal of a wedding band slipping onto his finger as he stood in the falling snow, Aoba was very, _very_ grateful for coffee.


	3. Friend Remembered Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koujaku and Aoba reunion oneshot. yeeeeeeeeeeeee

_Though thou the waters warp,_

_thy sting is not so sharp_

_as friend remembered not,_

_as friend remembered not._

A bitterly cold night walking back home from Mizuki's shop had Aoba dragging his hood up to cover his head and a scarf across his icy cheeks. He readjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, shuddering. He wished he'd brought gloves with him. 

The street was silent, for once. Nobody wanted to be outside at this time of night - it was dark, and cold, and Aoba paused for a moment when his boots started crunching on the sidewalk. He looked down and all around himself and saw small clumps of white on the ground, and flakes of snow falling through the air. 

He admired the light of the street lamps glittering off the fresh snow for a scarce moment and the white puffs of vapor rising from his own warm breath before remembering just how cold he truly was, and resumed hurrying home. 

When he reached the short gate outside his home, he noticed someone leaning up against the fence, struggling to light what appeared to be a cigarette. Aoba frowned a little bit. He wasn't expecting any sort of company tonight, and if Granny had been planning to have a guest come over, she surely would have told him. 

The person looked up from their attempts to light the cigarette and Aoba caught a glimpse at a very familiar face.

"Aoba!" 

The navy blue hair, the red eyes, and the tenor of the man's voice sent Aoba back to when he was a little kid. 

"Koujaku?" 

Aoba remembered Koujaku complaining about the abruptness of his being recalled to the mainland to see his father - remembered seeing him and his mom drive away to the airport and hoping beyond hope that his friend would be back home soon. 

"I've missed you!" Koujaku let the unlit cigarette drop to the ground and moved towards Aoba, who suddenly found himself standing completely still in the middle of the sidewalk.

His freezing hands curled into fists and shook lightly with sudden anger as Aoba contemplated Koujaku. It should have been so wonderful to see his friend after so many years, but there was something that the blue-haired man just couldn't get over.

"...why did you never call?" Aoba asked in as steady a voice as he could manage. "Why did you never write?"

Koujaku stopped right in his tracks and frowned. "Aoba?"

"You dropped off the face of the earth for years, and now you suddenly show up here? For what?" Aoba's voice was finally growing stronger, and he felt more anger bubbling up. Frustrated tears burned at his eyes and he looked at the ground to hide them. "Tell me!"

"I'm sorry." 

Aoba stopped. The light caught something on Koujaku's face. Tiny tears made silent tracks down the taller man's cheeks. 

"I'm so sorry, Aoba. When I left I really thought I'd come home soon - I thought I'd be back within days," Koujaku's fist clenched in the heavy fabric of his kimono and trembled. "I can't tell you what happened, and I can't tell you that I haven't changed. I"m not the same person that I was when I left, Aoba. But if you'll still have me, I'd really like to still be your friend."

The two stood in silence.

"We're not kids anymore, Koujaku. I feel like I can tell you that after you left, things for me got...bad. I can't even remember half of it, but I distinctly remember you not being here and how empty I felt. I like spending time with you and I like having you in my life," Aoba admitted, "and I'd honestly like to be _more_ than your friend. If you'll have _me_."

There was a brief pause and then suddenly Aoba found himself wrapped up in a tight embrace.

"I missed you," Koujaku murmured. 

"I missed you, too."

"I thought you might have forgotten about me."

Aoba considered a world without the flamboyant, well-dressed, loud man and could only imagine a desolate existence. 

"Stupid hippo," Aoba chuckled, "As if I could forget about you."


	4. Benefits Forgot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH MizukiXAoba. so good. so cute. mizuki is so HANDSOME wow. Mizuki gets FUCKING sick because hes an asshole. a really handsome dude.  
> Dry Juice members being so adorable and caring oof.

_Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky_

_Thou does not bite so nigh_

_as benefits forgot,_

_as benefits forgot_

Mizuki was sick, and cussed out the cold weather and rain with every rattling, painful breath.

He woke up with a fever in the morning and all of his muscles ached. He had a migraine to end all migraines, and even just pulling on his red leather jacket was painful to his aching shoulders. The brunette did his best to ignore the pounding in his skull and made to open his bar and tattoo parlor. 

A lot of Dry Juice members noticed that Mizuki wasn't exactly up to his best, and exchanged wary looks when Mizuki started coughing. The poor man ended up red faced and gasping for air when his fit passed. 

"Hey, Mizuki...maybe you should take it easy today, yeah?" A blonde suggested helpfully, patting his leader's back gently. 

Mizuki waved him off. "I'm fine," he said in a gravelly whisper. He staggered over to a chair and sat down for a minute, leaving his gang members to shoot him pitying looks and speak quietly amongst each other.

"What should we do?"

"He's not gonna listen to us, dumbass."

"I know that, you fuck."

"Hey, maybe we should call Aoba."

"Call Aoba? Yeah."

"Yeah that's a good idea. You go do that, imma try and convince Mizuki to close early."

"What about me?"

"You go sweep the bar and wipe down the counters."

"Fuck- again?"

"Yeah, again."

A slim, black coil was readied and the contact labelled "Aoba Seragaki" was dialed with the press of a single key.

~*~*~*~

Aoba was out on the town scavenging for a new part for Ren when his coil rang. With a glance, he noticed it was one of his Dry Juice acquaintances. He accepted the call and kept perusing the shelves.

"Yeah?"

_"Hey, Aoba. Mizuki's sick and he won't go home."_

Aoba sighed. "Again?"

_"Yeah, again."_

"God fucking dammit. Can't he keep his shit together for a month at least?"

_"In his defense, it has been really cold. Lots of snow and rain."_

"I guess."

_"Mind coming and getting him?"_

"You know I'm going to fucking get sick too, don't you?"

_"Do you mind, Aoba?"_

"Not really. I'll be by in just a few, yeah?"

_"Thanks, man. We all owe you one."_

"Actually, that's about ten that you owe me."

_"I know, I know."_

"Alright, see you in a few."

_"Yeah."_

Aoba disconnected the call and rubbed at his eyes, groaning. He'd managed to locate the proper circuit board he needed and was ready to pay for it and leave, and was dreading going to get Mizuki just because he knew he would catch whatever that asshat had. He silently cursed his friend for overworking himself and not quitting when he knew he was getting too stressed out.

With a fresh circuit board for Ren and a tiny bit of good-humored ire towards his ill boyfriend, Aoba made his way to _Black Needle_.

~*~*~*~

To poor Mizuki, Aoba appeared out of fucking nowhere. 

"Hey, fuckwit!" The blue haired man yelled as he appeared in the doorway, flushed slightly from the cold and a little bit damp from the falling snow. "Time to go home!" 

"Aoba?" Mizuki asked, blinking rapidly and rubbing at his temples. "The _hell_ are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take your sorry ass back to your house, where it belongs when you're ill," Aoba declared, grasping Mizuki's upper arm and hauling the brunette out of his chair, "Come on, don't make this harder than it has to be," he complained as Mizuki held on to the edge of the table, effectively keeping the pair stationary. 

"Aoba, I need to do my job!" 

"You think you're doing your job effectively right now? I bet you can barely fucking think!"

"Not true!"

Aoba realized he'd have to switch tactics. "Mizuki," he said, his voice dropping in volume as he whispered into Mizuki's ear, "if you don't come home with me right now, you won't get any for a whole fucking week."

Mizuki hung his head. "Fine," he relented, and released his grip on the table. 

Aoba gave a friendly one-fingered salute to the members of Dry Juice and led Mizuki out of the shop and down the street to his apartment to the tune of a chorus of "Thank you"s and "Fuck you too, Aoba"s. 

A little over a half an hour later, Mizuki and Aoba were settled on the couch in Mizuki's living room, a ridiculous amount of blankets heaped across the former, and some crap Christmas movie playing on the TV. 

"You need to stop overworking yourself, Mizuki," Aoba said, running his fingers through Mizuki's hair gently, "And you need to know when to stop when you get ill." Aoba knew how useless it was to tell Mizuki this, because he was definitely going to do it again, most likely before winter even ended. Aoba would still take care of Mizuki when he got sick, because he knew Mizuki would do the same for him.

Mizuki nodded drowsily and mumbled a promise to not be so stupid again and let Aoba kiss him on the cheek gently, despite the risk of catching Mizuki's illness. 

It didn't matter how many times he got sick, Mizuki always forgot how nice it was to be taken care of. 


	5. The Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noiz buys something for the house and Aoba doesn't really approve.

_Heigh, ho, sing heigh, ho_

_unto the green holly;_

_most friendship is feigning,_

_most loving: mere folly._

Aoba really loved Noiz. Noiz was adorable and sweet, though he acted a bit like a five year old sometimes. The younger man stayed up late playing video games or writing reports and crawled into bed at maybe two in the morning. To outsiders it seemed that Noiz was unaware of social constructs or perhaps he was just new to dealing with people, but Aoba saw something different. He saw a caring and conscientious kid who couldn't stay away from bunnies and liked playing with Aoba's hair because it was blue and soft. Noiz was the kid who had holes put in his flesh and shoved metal bars and baubles through them because he thought they made him look cool. Aoba saw the music nerd, the programming genius, the rabbit-obsessed animal lover. 

But even Aoba could admit that sometimes Noiz was a pain in the ass. He was a grade A insomniac with a tiny alcohol problem, and he never ate healthy food without an intense struggle. He was spoiled and whiny at times, and impossible to speak to before he had at least five grams of caffeine in the morning. When Aoba was trying to get work done, Noiz would distract him with the stupidest things. And, it seemed, Noiz couldn't tell the difference between holly and mistletoe. 

A sprig of holly hung from the large archway that was the entrance to the living room. Bright red berries on dark green leaves gleamed in the light of the Christmas tree and the numerous strings of holiday lights that decorated the room. It had been there for a week, and Aoba still hadn't mentioned it to his slightly neurotic boyfriend. Aoba sighed and walked into the kitchen, where Noiz was pillaging a pile of holiday pastries. 

"I'm home!" Aoba said, putting his laptop bag down on the counter and opening the takeout bag he'd brought home. 

"Welcome home," Noiz replied, slightly muffled by numerous donuts. 

"Hey, you're going to spoil your dinner," Aoba warned, knowing that the effort was useless. 

"This is my dinner," Noiz said stubbornly. 

"Don't blame me when you get sick to your stomach," Aoba retorted.

He sat down across the table from Noiz and ate his chicken and rice in silence while he tapped away at the keys on his laptop, pulling up the designs his boss had wanted him to look over during their break from work. He grimaced at the unequal lines and imperfect symmetry of some of the pieces and resigned himself to having a lot of work to do. 

"Hey, it's been like a week; did you notice?" Noiz asked after a minute or two. 

"Notice what?" Aoba wondered distractedly, powering on his tablet and flipping his pen's "on" switch. He needed to get this fixed or it would bother him for days.

"What I put up in the entryway." 

"Yeah." 

"Well, what did you think?" 

Aoba paused. "It's...interesting, I suppose. Very holiday-appropriate." 

Noiz raised a brow, obviously expecting something more. "Really?" 

"Yes, holly is a very Christmas-y plant." 

Realization slowly dawned on Noiz's face, and he dropped his head into his hands. "It's holly?" 

"Yep."

"Are you fucking joking right now?"

"Nope."

"It's fucking _holly_?"

"Yup." 

"Fuck." 

"You were aiming for mistletoe, I presume?" Aoba asked, loving this.

"Yeah." 

"And you put up a sprig of holly instead." It wasn't even a question this time - Aoba knew he was torturing Noiz, and he was enjoying every single second of it.

"Yeah," Noiz said morosely.

"Hey Noiz," Aoba began.

"Yeah?" 

"Don't worry about it. I'll still kiss you like it's mistletoe." 

"...thank you." 


	6. The Fruitcake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clear and some problems with fruitcake.  
> Brand new song for this chapter since I ran out of lines from the other one - this one is the song 'Fruitcake'  
> Please note that in this chapter, Clear is kind of a manifestation of my own problems with anxiety. This won't be like everyone's experiences, okay? I guess a little bit of psychology is involved here. I wish I had somebody like Aoba.

_Chocolate cakes and butter cakes_

_and cakes with lots of spice,_

_layer cakes and angel cakes_

_I think are very nice._

_But when it comes to Christmas time,_

_can anyone dispute, that when_

_you bake a Christmas cake it really_

_should be, surely could be, yes_

_it would be positively absolutely_

_must be made with fruit?_

_Fruitcake!_

Aoba awoke on Christmas morning to the blaring of the fire alarm and the strangely sweet smell of something burning. The blue-haired man groaned and rolled back over without bothering to check and see what was going so wrong.

Now, this course of inaction doesn't particularly make sense unless there is some sort of context given for the atrocity occurring in the kitchen. 

Aoba's boyfriend of three years (and two months, and one week, and six hours) was rather inept when it came to baking. 

Clear was good at literally everything (at least, anything that he had thus far tried) except for baking. He cooked magnificent dinners, and he was great at wrapping presents and singing. Dancing was no problem, and writing was a breeze (he made his living as a newspaper editor for the Herald) and he found no trouble in cleaning or personal hygiene. 

But every cake the peach-skinned writer tried to make managed to fall flat in some way, sometimes even literally. 

And Aoba was keen to disregard Clear's lack of baking skill entirely and just handle the baking for the few occasions that even required it (birthdays, holiday dinners, house parties, and the like) because Clear would work himself into a tizzy and often burn whatever it was he was attempting or make a huge mess only to end up with an unrecognizable batter. Even Aoba would admit that Clear covered in flour and confectioner's sugar was adorable, but the resulting clean-up was simply annoying.

This time, though, it seemed that Clear was trying to practice his baking in secret (hence the loud fire alarm at five in the morning) to be able to present something at the small Christmas dinner they were hosting later that evening. 

Aoba heard soft footfalls padding up the stairs and found himself waving off Clear's stream of apologies.

"Aoba, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make the alarm go off - I thought I really had it this time! I didn't want to wake you up - I know you were out late last night at a shoot and I wanted you to get your sleep," Clear explained and apologized in quick succession.

The man in question pushed the blankets back and sat up to look Clear square in the face. 

"Clear. I promise you, just like the last thirty times this has happened, as long as you're not hurt, everything is fine. I can take a nap a little bit later, yeah? I'm going to shower and then I'll be down to help you assess the damage, okay?" Aoba asked and received an affirming nod from his boyfriend, "Brilliant. Why don't you go and start wrapping presents - they're under the stack of cards in the coat closet." 

"Okay," Clear replied dejectedly and made for the door after letting Aoba give him a quick peck on the lips.

Aoba's shower that morning was brisk and brief, with good reason - leaving Clear alone with his thoughts after an episode like that was never really a good idea.

Clear's grandfather, the old, out-of-touch Freud enthusiast that he was, was Clear's primary caregiver after his mother and father were killed in a drunk driving accident when Clear was only two. He was racist and intolerable of imperfection - Clear had to be absolutely masterful of everything he tried, from violin to debate. He was the very reason that every time Clear did something wrong he expected disapproval from the people he cared about, and pain from the ones he loved. 

Aoba never got upset about sitting down with Clear and helping him reason something through before panic set in - it wasn't Clear's fault that his grandfather was a horrible old man who had to live vicariously through his grandchild, and Aoba loved Clear more than anything in the world, so he resolved to do anything in his power to help him.

With a towel turban wrapped around his dripping blue hair, Aoba made his way downstairs and sat across the table from Clear, who had wrapped twelve boxes and assembled thirteen gift bags and wasn't showing much indication of slowing down.

"So, Clear, what was it you were trying this time?" Aoba asked lightly, eyeing the smoking remains of something in a cake pan.

"Fruitcake." 

"Alright," Aoba began easily and gently, as he always did, "so, do you think there's something you could do differently next time-"

"That's the whole problem, isn't it? I've tried fifteen times, and it's always _wrong_!" Clear shouted angrily, ripping apart a long piece of wrapping paper in frustration.

"Clear. This isn't just about the cake, and it never has been. It's not that you're doing it wrong - it's that you're being so hard on yourself," Aoba said patiently. "I know that everything you were raised to believe tells you otherwise, but-"

"This isn't about _Grandfather_!" Clear exclaimed loudly, throwing down his tape and paper and turning to face Aoba fully. "For once, this isn't about _him_!" 

"It is, though! You do your best to get things perfect, but you freak out when they don't go your way, and you refuse to let him take the blame for _what's his fault!_ " Aoba stopped as soon as the words came out of his mouth and he clenched his fists tightly. "I'm sorry, that was too far." 

Clear sat down and buried his face in his hands. "You're right and you're wrong - Grandfather is the reason I can't help this-" he gestured uselessly around the kitchen, "this whatever _this_ is. Obsession, I guess. There was always so much need for me to do so well and I guess I just can't seem to get any closure."

"What is it, Clear? What is it you need?"

"I don't _know_! I don't _know_ what I want! I don't _know_ what I need. I don't know what I'm _missing_! I guess I just never had anyone tell me that I was doing something right. It sounds so _useless_ and _stupid_ and _unnecessary_ now that I'm hearing myself say it aloud, but I suppose it's true. It's just that nobody ever told me that they were- that they were..." Clear trailed off. 

"That they were...?" 

"That they were proud of me," Clear finished. "And even hearing it now-I don't know if it would change anything. I don't know how far I need to go to get better, Aoba. I really don't. And I don't want you to keep having to put up with someone who's _broken_. Someone who's not _whole_."

It all suddenly made sense. Clear's intense need to fix everything wasn't just taught - it was something he felt he needed to do to win approval. Anyone's approval. Aoba's approval. Aoba took a deep breath and pulled Clear into a hug. 

"Clear, I see you every day, getting up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast and get ready for work, and I think about how far you've come from the shy kid I met in the library at school. And I hold you and kiss you and I marvel at how much you've changed and how much you've grown. And Clear, every day and all day I am so, so very proud of you," Aoba finished tearfully, pressing his face into Clear's soft shirt. "You may feel like you're broken, and I can't relate to you because we're not the same person. But I won't leave you, and I want to help you pick up the pieces." 

They spent a long while standing there in the middle of the kitchen, the heavy thickness of the smoke slowly dispersing from the atmosphere. 

Aoba knew this wasn't going to fix anything right away. He knew that the problem was much more complicated than that. Clear would need to work really hard if he wanted to get better, and Aoba was willing to help him through the thick of it. 

The two of them whipped up a batch of sugar cookies and frosted them to look like bells and bags of toys, and they were accepted gratefully at the party later that evening. Aoba saw Clear take half credit for the cookies with pride and caught the long look Clear sent his way. 

When the party was done and the two were pressed up against each other on the couch in the living room, Aoba kissed his boyfriend and knew that they had a long way to go before Clear could let his obsession go, but didn't really mind.

No. He didn't mind one bit.


	7. Three Sizes That Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mizuki doesn't even KNOW Aoba in this one, fam. And he still thinks the boy is adorable :)  
> WARNINGS: Mentions (however brief and non-explicit) of forced sexual intercourse and domestic violence.

Aoba needed a _fucking_ drink. 

He staggered into the tiny bar and he slumped onto a stool at the counter. Blood dripped onto his jacket sleeves and when the bartender meandered over he gruffly said, "Whatever you have that's dark and strong."

"Not sure if you need a drink or a hospital," the bartender scoffed, but poured a shot of whiskey and slid it in front of Aoba regardless. 

The blue-haired man downed it in one and spun the glass on the immaculately clean countertop. "One more, if you would."

Another shot was poured and Aoba necked it once more. 

"So what has a cute kid like you bloody and drinking on a Tuesday night?" The bartender asked while drying a mug. 

Aoba's bruised jaw throbbed and his split lip stung through his speech, "Beat up and drunk is the only proper way to be after a night like mine." 

"A night like yours, eh? Care to elaborate?" 

"Pretty nasty fight with my uh...partner," Aoba relayed carefully. "Think I'm gonna drop him soon."

"A fight on Christmas Eve," the bartender observed, "what kind of a backwards asshole decides to have a fight on Christmas Eve?"

"Apparently the same backwards asshole who likes taking what he wants without asking," Aoba mused.

"If this conversation is getting any deeper we might want to stop being strangers, so," the bartender held out his hand, "name's Mizuki."

"Aoba," the blue haired man shook Mizuki's hand.

Mizuki stored the glass he'd been drying and picked up another one. "So your worse half expresses his holiday spirit by smacking you around? That his M.O.?"

"Got it in one, friend," Aoba huffed out, closing his eyes and gently rubbing at his temples.

"You seem like a smart guy. Why stay with him?"

"Yeah, cuz smart guys drown their sorrows in alcohol. Well, he pays my rent and puts food on the table, I guess," Aoba muttered. He finally took the time to snag a long look at Mizuki.

Mizuki was fucking handsome. He had light eyes and brunette hair and a mischievous quirk to his lips and he wore leather and _hot fucking damn_ Aoba was nearly _gone_. 

"I'm guessing your split lip doesn't have you feeling very festive, Aoba," speculated the bartender.

"Among other things, I assure you," Aoba said wryly. 

"Well, my replacement's just arrived for the evening and I know a good coffee shop just down the block where we can get something cold for your injuries after you let me clean you up a little bit. What do you say?" Mizuki grinned and made a gesture with his head to invite Aoba along.

Aoba had a small moment of fake contemplation during which he prayed to any sort of higher power anywhere that this leather-clad man took him on the bar right then and there, and then decided to reply, "Why are you doing this? Why help me?"

Mizuki barked out a laugh, "Yeah, why help the cute, blue-haired victim of domestic violence and do my best to convince him to stay as far away from his abusive boyfriend as possible while also attempting to ask him on a date?" 

Then Aoba made up his mind, "The giving, generous Christmas spirit in your bones then, is it?"

"Sure. Yeah. My heart's already grown three sizes today," Mizuki threw down the towel he'd been using and untied the small black apron he'd had on. He grabbed a set of keys from somewhere behind the bar and held out his hand to Aoba, who clasped it and allowed Mizuki to lead him outside.

The first rush of bitterly cold winter air had Aoba's hair standing on end and pressing a bit closer to Mizuki than was probably truly necessary. 

"Must be Christmas, then."

A handsome, caring guy genuinely interested in Aoba who knew his liquor and had the very sense of dry humor that kept Aoba's brain moving asked the aforementioned blue-haired computer engineer on a date. On Christmas Eve.

Mink could go _fuck_ himself. 


	8. Cabinet Cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even really a fic that goes along with any song today. Oops. Sorry  
> RenXAoba for this one, not really in the right universe. Yup pretty AU for this one bruh.

"Hey, Ren, what is this?" Aoba called out, referring to the tiny wrapped box he'd found while he was cleaning out the bathroom cabinet. 

The taller, muscular, dark-haired man poked his head into the bathroom and spied the box before replying, "It's your first day of Christmas gift." 

"Ren, you really didn't have to-" 

Aoba was cut off in his protest by his boyfriend capturing him in a kiss. 

"I did have to, though, Aoba," Ren murmured into Aoba's ear. 

"But I only got you normal Christmas presents! I feel so fucking shitty now," Aoba complained, hitting Ren in the chest with his forehead. 

"Aww, don't feel shitty. I'm just not good at knowing when to stop," Ren grinned and trailed his hand down Aoba's back, making the blue-haired man shudder a little. 

"You're gonna fucking get it later, Ren, I swear to God," Aoba muttered as Ren turned and left, leaving Aoba alone with the tiny box. "If he fucking does this for twelve more days, god damn it. I love him, but what a piece of shit." 

Aoba ripped open the paper around the box and pulled out a new barbell for his philtrum piercing. He shook his head and smiled a little, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't have to deal with eleven more days of presents. 

~*~*~

Aoba had to deal with eleven more days of presents. 

He had to tear the wrapping paper off of a box of chocolate truffles, a tiny pawprint ornament for the Christmas tree, a little novelty light-up choker, several peppermint tea-light candles, several candle holders, and many more. He'd found them in the most random places - the cereal bowls in the cabinet when he was trying to make breakfast, the bag of food for his dog, and even the refrigerator. 

And this was supposed to be the last day that Ren would surprise him with little boxes or bags, and Aoba couldn't be any happier. He really just hated the feeling of not giving back to his wonderful boyfriend as much as he had received, which wasn't a very good feeling. He didn't like having things be uneven, and though he was very flattered with Ren's display of love, he also felt awful that he hadn't gotten Ren anything in equal amount. 

Aoba was ready to give Ren an earful when the taller one called him into the sitting room because he wanted to present him with the final gift. And he was just about to open his mouth and give him a third piece of his mind when he spied Ren shifting around a little nervously on the couch. 

"Hey. What's wrong?" Aoba asked, approaching his boyfriend. 

"Nothing wrong, really. Just a little nervous." 

"Nervous? Why?" 

"I can't help but overthink things, Aoba. It's like I told you a few days ago," Ren said, moving to stand in front of Aoba and then shocking his poor blue-haired companion by getting down on one knee, "I just don't know when to stop, sometimes." 

Aoba's eyes widened and he clasped both of his hands over his mouth tightly. 

"So I never want to stop. Aoba Seragaki, will you marry me?" 

Aoba figured the way he nearly knocked Ren to the ground when he threw his arms around the taller man's neck and kissed him senseless was answer enough. 


	9. Carol of the Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choir kids AU!!!! Caroling :)  
> I think it might be safe to say that NoiAo is my OTP for the DMMD universe. Pretty safe to say. Yeah.

_Hark, how the bells_

_sweet, silver bells_

_all seem to say_

_throw cares away;_

_Christmas is here,_

_bringing good cheer_

_to young and old,_

_meek and the bold._

"Caroling?" Aoba asked incredulously.

"Yeah, caroling. We gotta head over to the hospital soon," Koujaku declared, wrapping his scarf around his neck. 

"Why didn't anybody tell me we were going caroling?" Aoba continued, following Koujaku out the door with the rest of the choir.

"Well, you weren't here last week. You were sick, remember? We talked all about it." 

"You know I hate hospitals and I hate being around-around..." Aoba stuttered and trailed off.

Koujaku stopped, nearly letting Aoba run into him. "I understand, Aoba, I really do. But we're not doing this to specifically torture you, you know." 

"It's just so..." Aoba tried, and Koujaku beat him to it.

"It's so depressing and desolate there and I know you hate it, but please just keep your shit together for a couple hours for me, yeah?"

And with a flourish of their long, black coats and the fluttering of sheet music being ruffled by the frigid air, the two choir members made their way out the door of the music room and into the waiting cars.

~*~*~

The director didn't want to disturb any of the patients that may need extra rest or may not even want to be cheered, so the choir did their caroling at various common rooms, which were actually pretty nice. It was the walking through the hallways that nearly caused Aoba to hyperventilate. It smelled of too much industrial cleaner - covering blood -

_\- his feet pounding on thin, cheap tile and his breath coming in quick gasps, chest burning and tears spilling down his cheeks. He shoved open the door of the ER and sprinted down the rows of hospital beds - where were they?! Where were they?! -_

"I need to use the bathroom!" Aoba gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth and ignoring the concerned glances Koujaku and Clear shot him. He made a beeline for the nearest lavatory and emptied his stomach into a toilet.

He spent a few moments just leaning over the toilet, bracing himself against the walls of the stall and breathing shallowly, trying to stave off more nausea. He'd just made it to the sink to rinse his mouth of the acid and digested food taste when someone addressed him.

"Weak stomach?" 

In the mirror Aoba spied a teenager behind him. He wore black and green, and had short and scruffy blonde hair. He was toying with a holographic rubik's cube and the most prominent feature he had besides the numerous silver barbells sticking out all over his face were the huge black bags he had under his eyes. 

"Something like that, yeah," Aoba muttered, drying his mouth off with paper towels. "I think I gotta get back to my group." 

"You were the ones caroling earlier," the teen said, and it definitely wasn't a question.

"Yeah."

"You guys sang a song that nearly put me to sleep," he continued bluntly, "which is really impressive."

"Impressive how?" Aoba asked curiously. 

"Insomnia. Haven't had a wink of sleep in the past two days," the boy finished in what Aoba now identified as a very, very tired voice. 

"That's rough, dude." 

"Yeah, it's not very fun." 

There was a very long pause and suddenly Aoba got an idea. "Do you want me to sing for you? I mean, I know it won't have the same effect of the full choir, but it might help you a little?" 

The kid considered it for a moment before replying, "Sure, why not. Nothing to lose at this point, right?"

~*~*~

Noiz. The poor insomniac kid's name was Noiz. He said he was from Germany, though he didn't have a hint of an accent. He'd revealed that he'd gotten nerve damage from a procedure designed to help with scoliosis when he was little, so on top of his insomnia and scoliosis he also couldn't feel stimuli unless they were really intense. 

Aoba's heart went out to the kid, who honestly couldn't even be a few years younger than himself. 

Once Noiz was comfortable in his hospital bed and had removed his impressively flashy shoes, Aoba told him to do whatever he normally did when he was trying to fall asleep. Then, Aoba began to sing _Silent Night_ , followed by _The First Nöel_ and an extraordinarily slow version of the _Carol of the Bells_. Aoba supposed anything could be a lullaby if it was in a major key and was slow enough. 

At some point during the second verse of _Carol of the Bells_ , Noiz's eyes had closed and the teen had fallen asleep. The problem was, he had fallen asleep clutching at Aoba's hand like it was a lifeline. 

Aoba Seragaki, who hated hospitals more than anything in the whole world, gently kissed Noiz's forehead and decided to stay by the side of this poor blond insomniac until he woke up, which for the first time in Noiz's life wasn't until the next morning. 

It was Christmas, after all. 


	10. Happy Non-Denominational Winter Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aoba gets to be a teacher. Ren is one of his ex-students. Oops.  
> College AU (everyone is of age, people)

Aoba had never been more glad for Ren's company as he was during the holiday season. 

Ren, tall, gentle, and muscular, was very helpful in moving around the giant filing cabinets and desks Aoba needed to shift so that the janitors could clean his classroom during the long upcoming winter break. The kid volunteered the past two years after he'd completed Aoba's Graphic Design 201 class. 

And, to his credit, Ren was also one hell of a listener. 

"It's such bullshit!" Aoba complained as he graded paper after paper from his Creative Writing class. "I got a memo from the board today and they've decided the professors aren't even allowed to wish people "Happy Holidays" anymore!" 

"What do they want you to say instead?" Ren asked as he heaved another desk to the corner of the room.

"They want us to say 'Happy Non-Denominational Winter Season,'" Aoba quoted with disdain. "I guess somebody's mom got pissed because they don't celebrate any sort of holiday around this time of year." 

Ren made a noncommittal sound and continued his heavy lifting.

"Do you celebrate Christmas, Ren? Or Hanukah? Kwanza?" Aoba asked, moving five more pages of the final exam into the 'Done' basket on his desk.

Ren paused to think for a second about how to explain it. "Well, we do celebrate Christmas, but we don't really do any of the religious stuff connected with it. My mom and dad are both practicing wiccans so we celebrate the winter solstice in my house. How about you, Mr. Seragaki?" 

"Ren, if I have to tell you to call me Aoba one more time I swear-" a sharp rap at the classroom door drew the attention of both males. "Get that for me, Ren? I have like one more question to grade." 

"Yeah," Ren said and pulled open the door to reveal Mizuki, the professor from just down the hall. "Morning, Professor." 

"Good morning. Is Aoba, uh, in?" Mizuki asked nervously.

Ren spied the bouquet of roses and the bag of what smelled like chocolates and his expression hardened as Mizuki's demeanor made more sense. "Actually, he's out at the moment. I can take a message or something for you if you'd like." 

"Um, yeah. Tell him Merry Christmas from me, and if you wouldn't mind giving him these for me?" Mizuki held out the bouquet and the bag and then fled from the doorway with a hasty goodbye over his shoulder.

Ren scoffed and let the door swing closed. He plopped the aforementioned gifts onto Aoba's desk, where the blue-haired professor was just finishing up his final paper.

"How come you told him I was out?" Aoba asked curiously, neatening up the stack of papers and scantrons. 

"You don't need such a nosy guy hanging around you. You're trying to get all of your end of the semester work done, you don't need somebody like that around distracting you," Ren asserted firmly. 

Aoba shoved the papers into his briefcase. "Eh, Mizuki talks a lot, sure, but he's a good guy. He's been so awkward around me for the past few weeks I thought he was going to ask me out," he raised an eyebrow at Ren's frown. "Is there something wrong with that, Ren?"

"Nothing's wrong with that. Nothing at all," Ren muttered quickly, shoving another filing cabinet into the corner of the room. 

"Oh, but there is, isn't there?" Aoba asked curiously, moving in front of Ren just as the taller man released the cabinet. "There's something bothering you about Mizuki liking me, am I right?" 

"Just leave it alone, Aoba, okay?" Ren pleaded, trying to move past his golden-eyed ex-professor and failing. 

"C'mon, Ren! 'Tis the season to share and care!" Aoba teased, getting up on his tip-toes and managing to ruffle Ren's hair. "Tell me what's wrong and I promise it'll stay in this room, yeah?"

Ren sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering who exactly was the working adult here and who was supposed to be the immature college kid. "I really don't want to tell you, that's the problem."

"Well, if you won't talk to me, then I guess I'll just go and say hi to Mizuki and-" Aoba made his way to the door only to be grabbed around the middle, spun around, and pressed up agains the wall by something very tall and very strong. 

Ren's lips met Aoba's very demandingly - there was hunger there. There was the sign of a long-suppressed desire for contact and suddenly there was also a hand running through Aoba's hair, gently tugging on the long blue strands. 

Minutes passed, though the kiss felt about half that long. 

When Aoba could finally breathe again he regulated his air intake and output and stared long and hard at his former student. 

"Well, Happy Non-Denominational Winter Season to me!" 


	11. The Winter Break Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> u fucking ready for this? no. neither was i.  
> this ended up being fucking stupid as shit and i'm so sorry i put u guys through this this was a bad idea.   
> shit.   
> fuck  
> don't read i guess.   
> im done bai  
> -Oxy

Aoba didn't like anybody touching his _fucking hair_. 

He had a sensitive fucking scalp and people would try to touch his hair and play with his hair and it always fucking _hurt_. Their excuse for touching his hair was that it was so _long_ and _blue_ and _soft-looking_ , and Aoba would have fucking _none_ of that, thank you very much. This was the very reason why he always cut it himself and whenever he knew he was going to be around a lot of people, he would tie it up into a bun. Ponytails invited even more fucking touching because people were god damn idiots who didn't know how to give others any personal space. 

Aoba hated going shopping in public because people, people he didn't even fucking _know_ , would harass him about his hair almost his whole trip. Christmas shopping was even more nightmarish than other kinds of shopping because the factor of people out and about increased by about ten. Ten times more people to try and snag a feel of his hair. 

So he did most of his Christmas shopping online when there were deals on shipping because fuck paying fifteen dollars for shipping just because of where he lived. God damn. But there were people that he just couldn't find gifts for online, so he had to go out to the shops and look around and get tortured by the general public for being born with long, silky blue hair for a few hours. Shit. 

Shopping was arduous and troublesome, and Aoba just barely managed to find gifts for his grandma and Mizuki before he went insane and fucking kicked someone in the jaw. 

With the practiced ease of someone ho had dodged things much more threatening than groping hands in his past, Aoba ducked and weaved around the other holiday shoppers and was out the door before anyone could look at him twice. 

And he made it home (thankfully) without being molested. 

But there was another problem waiting for him when he got home - apparently Koujaku had decided to drop by. And instead of texting or calling Aoba like a normal human being, he decided to just wait at Aoba's house to surprise him. 

Koujaku was a little hair-crazy, his career being of the hairdressing variety, so whenever he saw Aoba's hair he sighed a little and looked all sad until Aoba either promised him (again) that one day he'd let Koujaku cut it, or directed the conversation away as gracefully has he could manage. 

And this time, Koujaku had brought the tools of his trade with him on his visit. 

"Koujaku I don't think I have it in me to argue with you about this today," Aoba sighed, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his coat and scarf on the hooks by the door, "I was just out shopping." 

Koujaku had the decency to look as if he were a bit ashamed, sheepishly toying with the thinning shears and combs and scissors he'd brought with him, laid out and gleaming on the coffee table. 

"Sorry, Aoba. Tae didn't tell me." 

"You know what? My hair is such a pain I might just shave it all off. Wear beanies for the rest of my life. Maybe that way nobody would harass me about it when I go out," Aoba mumbled as he set the bags he'd put his shopping in by the stairs. Then he practically collapsed on the couch next to Koujaku, who threw an arm around Aoba's shoulders. 

"Aoba, why not just let me take a crack at it? If you really hate it afterwards, I'll shave it off for you, Scout's Honor." 

"I know you're not going to do a bad job, Koujaku! That's not the problem - I'm just scared of it hurting since I'm not going to be the one doing it." 

"How many times have you let me play with you hair, Aoba?" 

"...a lot." 

"How many times have I hurt you?" 

"...never..."

"Then would you trust me for a minute and let me give you a haircut?" 

It took a little bit of convincing, a little bit of nudging (and quite a long and sweet kiss) and Aoba finally gave in. 

Koujaku was indeed super gentle and very conscious of Aoba's fears - he told the blue-haired man about everything he was doing, right down to explaining what the different tools were for and how he was going to use them. 

At the end, Aoba's hair was so much more clean-looking and much more manageable, and Aoba didn't hate it one bit. 


	12. Christmas Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ABOUT FUCKING TIME, ISN'T IT? YEAH. FUCK.   
> well this is nowhere near the length it was probably going to be originally, but fuck if i know i can't remember that shit.  
> that was like half a year ago.   
> more, now, i think.   
> shit.  
> im sorry guys. not what you deserve, but it's what you're getting.   
> -Oxy

Aoba was making pancakes, because really what other kind of breakfast food are you supposed to have on a holiday? 

The cook had gotten the day off because it was Christmas and Aoba decided to break out a mold in the shape of a Christmas tree so he could make tree-shaped pancakes. He also made tree-shaped omelettes and thought they looked particularly nice. 

He'd just finished fixing breakfast for Noiz and himself when the spoiled brat himself decided to trail nicely-manicured fingers down Aoba's bare stomach and press kisses to the blue-haired man's neck and jaw. 

Now, there were a few things that kind of ground Aoba's gears, and many of them had to deal with being surprised. He hated surprise parties, he hated surprise gifts, he certainly hated it when his _actual baby child_ of a boyfriend decided to sneak up on him when his attention was focused on something other than his surroundings, and Aoba held a certain ire in his heart for surprise touches. 

And, with a past as interesting as Aoba's (including quite a few knife fights, fist fights, gun fights, nearly being killed several times by multiple street gangs, et cetra) he had multiple reactions for when either of the last two things on his 'no surprises' list occurred. This time, he broke a plate on Noiz's head. 

Yup, a _plate_.

"God fucking dammit, Noiz!" Aoba exclaimed, observing with mounting irritation and equal horror the growing crimson patch on Noiz's blond head and the ceramic shards littering the kitchen floor. "You know I hate it when you do that!" 

"You know that noise that cats make when you touch them when they're not expecting you to? That little 'prrrrup' sound?" Noiz asked, pressing a hand to his head and examining it with interest when it came away bloody. 

"Are you high?" 

"Your reaction is far more entertaining. Not cuter, but more entertaining," Noiz specified, reaching around Aoba to the sink so he could wash his hand off. 

"I gave you a concussion, didn't I? You little fucking brat if I have to take you to the ER this morning just because you have personal space issues, I swear-" 

Noiz's very soft and gentle mouth was pressing up against Aoba's in the next moment, and Aoba would be loathe to admit it later (after he decided that Noiz definitely did not have a concussion) but it was the kind of surprise that he really didn't mind. 


End file.
